


Wicked Games

by kallistob



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM Scene, Bruises, Dom Gellert Grindelwald, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, First Meetings, Fluff, In Public, M/M, Masochism, Newt is still exploring, Newt's first time in a club, Pet Names, Public Sex, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Original Percival Graves, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/kallistob
Summary: “Ten more,” Gellert announces to the room at large, before looking down at Percival. “And I want you to count.”“Yes sir.”





	Wicked Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercurialTenacity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/gifts).



> Based on a prompt asking for subby Graves. I hope you guys like it :) it's all very cute & safe like BDSM should be.

“How did you two meet?”

The question is so innocent, pronounced with hesitance, as if the young man sitting in front of Percival isn’t sure he is allowed to ask.

Percy smiles, his eyes drifting off to where Gellert is standing, gesturing with his hands as he speaks with the club’s owner.  He looks back at the young man again, suddenly realizing something. “Tell me your name again?”

“Newt,” he replies without thinking, and Graves catches a flicker of worry in his eyes; he probably just gave him his real name, then. Not that Percival cares.

“Newt,” he repeats, voice deep and reassuring. “How did you become interested in BDSM? How old are you?”

“Twenty,” Newt says. He bites his lips, avoiding eye contact as he talks. His fingers tighten around his glass. “And it was mostly porn, as well as a couple of experiences with a few partners that made me want to really get into it.”

“I see.” Gellert has turned around, and he holds what looks like a black felt pen in his hand. “Have you ever witnessed an actual scene before?”

Newt shakes his head negatively.

“Then watch.”

And with that, Percival leaves his seat to join Gellert at the center of the room.

The man takes him in. Following orders, Percival has stripped down to nothing but the heavy chain wrapped around his throat. It is topped with a padlock only Gellert has the key to. As his dom does nothing to him but watch him, Percival starts to shiver—drawing Gellert’s eyes to his nipples, pebbling in the cool air.

He smiles, and tells Percival to turn around and bend over. Percy immediately obeys.

He is naked, and most eyes are on him. The other clients either chat or watch him with interest as Gellert prepares to do what he wants to him. It makes a familiar thrill run through his body. He catches Newt’s eye, who has relaxed back into his chair, and is staring at them carefully.

“Permission to speak, sir?” He says, and Gellert agrees. In the same moment he feels the tip of something cold against his arse and he jerks slightly, but Gellert holds him still with a heavy hand on his hip.

He’s writing, Percival realizes—writing something right on his skin—no doubt marking him as _his_. He is Gellert's for this night and all the nights to come. His smile widens. He winks at Newt, whose flush deepens, but he stays still and lets Gellert work.

“What did you want to say, darling?” Gellert asks, and Percival remembers.

“The young man wanted to know how we met, sir.”

Gellert chuckles, echoing how Percival felt at the question. He swats Percival’s ass, who wriggles it in response. He feels so at ease, here, and blissful—knowing this is just where he belongs, knowing he has someone here to take care of him.

There is a flash of light behind him, then Gellert tells him to straighten up. Percival does, a bit disappointed that this is all he gets. Perhaps he needs to provoke Gellert in order to get the beating he deserves tonight, although he felt he'd done that enough earlier by not even looking his way when the man entered the club.

He turns around, and Gellert holds his phone out to him. On the screen is a picture of Percival’s arse with the words, “PROPERTY OF SIR GELLERT” written in big, calligraphic letters. It makes him laugh, and he looks up at Gellert with a grin.

The moment their eyes meet he feels it again—their connection, something that makes him want to trust this man with all his being. It has never withered, not in all these months. Gellert leans closer, and Percival goes still and lax. He can smell the man’s cologne around him, just heady enough to pull him under, and his eyelashes flutter.

“Wait for me upstairs.”

Gellert pronounces each words as though it was a caress, and Percival feels warm. He wants to play.

“What for, sir?”

“That… insolence of yours earlier,” Gellert drawls. “Pretending you don’t know me, or haven’t missed me. I found you in someone else’s arms when I arrived, and you acted like I didn't exist. As if you don’t think about me touching you every damned _hour_ _of the day.”_

Gellert grabs his balls without warning and squeezes hard. Percival yelps in surprise as pain shoots up his spine, and his lower lip quivers. But he stays standing, even as Gellert’s touch bleeds into hot pleasure.

“So you do know him,” a voice says, and Gellert abruptly lets go of him. Percival sways on his feet, letting out a shaky breath. Newt has come closer to them. His drink is half empty, and he keeps it dangling between his fingers.

“No,” Percival dares to say, just to piss Grindelwald off. “I met him barely twenty minutes ag— _ooh—”_

Grindelwald has wrapped his hand around his cock this time, eyebrows raised in disbelief. He starts rubbing his thumb—almost cruelly fast—over the sensitive head, and just like that Percival is driven mad— gasping and tumbling forward as he follows the touch clumsily. He is fully hard now, and he wants more, but this is not about him. He lets out a little whine but chooses to stay otherwise silent, lest what little pleasure he’s being granted gets taken away.

“We met a year ago,” Gellert tells Newt as he starts stroking Percival’s cock ever so slowly, until he's wet at the tip and aching. It takes no time at all for him to try rocking against Gellert’s hand to get more friction, and every little disappointed moan he lets out —when Gellert stops his movements as reprimand—earns him a disapproving glare from his dom. Oh, he’ll no doubt get the whipping of his life once Gellert is done talking, for acting so wantonly, and he cannot wait for it. “At another club. This needy thing right here tried to pretend for a second that he was like me, but I could see right through him. Tell him, pet.”

Percival swallows. Gellert’s hand is going faster, and he finds it hard to concentrate when he just feels so fucking hot. Each touch sends blissful waves of pleasure spreading through his body, and he can't quite—

“I,” he says, then _“Ah,_ ” then “Oh, _fuck_ , sir — _please_ —” as his knees buckle under him, and Gellert lets him go.

Percival whimpers pitifully. He'd been so _close._ He knows he’ll be denied release for a long time to come yet, as their night is just beginning. There are many rooms and accessories upstairs Gellert will no doubt want to use on him, until his throat is raw from begging. The thought does nothing to quell his arousal, and he looks at Gellert with pleading eyes.

Unable to resist the call, Gellert comes close to him again, enveloping Percival in his warm embrace. Percy snuggles against him, feeling already dazed. He moves minutely, and the soft touch of Gellert's clothes rubbing against his cock feels so good.

Gellert pulls back, keeping his hands around Percival’s neck as he kisses his forehead.

“I was dressed just like him,” Percival finally manages to reply, turning his head towards Newt who has not budged. “No collar, no nothing to indicate I was a sub. Yet Gellert took one look at me, and said, ‘I want you naked in five minutes at my feet’. And I did it.”

“We had fun,” Gellert says fondly. Out of Newt’s sight, but in full view of everyone else, he is slowly stroking Percival’s ass. Percival arches his back minutely to press against him. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. I have someone to correct. You can come and watch.”

Newt nods hesitantly, finishing his drink in three quick swallows. Gellert guides Percival to the stairs that lead to the second floor with the playrooms. Newt trails awkwardly behind them. Percival’s breath is short by the time they get there. The young man suspects it has nothing to do with the narrow stairs and everything to do with the way he is buzzing with anticipation.

There is another couple in the room Gellert wants, but enough space for everyone. An old man is kneeling on the floor in a corner, his hands tied behind his back while a young woman strokes a cane on the curve of his ass. The man shakes, but he doesn’t protest—not even when the cane strikes and its slap echoes in the room.

Gellert takes in the space as Percival waits, hands folded down in front of him and Newt at his side. The old man moans weakly at the fifth stroke, and the woman rises up, throwing the cane to the floor.

“Wait for me. Don’t move,” she orders, her voice silky, and the man nods. He glances quickly at Percival, Newt and Gellert before resolutely staring back at the wall in front of him. Worriedly, Newt hopes the woman isn’t gone too long, because surely it is not a good idea to hold such a straining position for a lengthy amount of time, especially not for someone this age.

There is a bondage horse in the middle of the room. Gellert gestures to it, and Percival follows. Newt watches as he settles into position: face down, his upper body resting on the bench and his legs spread apart behind him, exposing his arse and heavy balls for all the room to see. Once he is comfortably positioned, Percival relaxes, and Gellert hums in approval.

“Wait here, pet. I won’t be long. You, boy,” Gellert says, addressing Newt. “Don’t touch him. You can admire him, he loves the attention.”

Newt nods, unable to speak. Gellert leaves quickly, and Newt hears him going back downstairs, perhaps to fetch what he needs in order to punish Percival.

It is weird, to see these things happening in real life instead of behind the protection of his computer screen, but Newt feels… good. More than good. All in all the few people he’s chatted with so far have been very kind and welcoming to him. Since this is his first time in a club, he is just here to observe—although he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t like to try _something_. What, he is not sure. Perhaps he can ask Gellert afterwards, but the man seems busy enough with Percival.

He is beautiful, kept on display like this. His body is pale, and his skin shaved everywhere, doubtless soft and smooth to the touch. In this position, Newt can see his little pink hole, and it makes him feel hot all over to think of another man in such a shameless way, but _God_ _—_

“I’m here, pet.”

Newt jumps—he hadn’t noticed Gellert came back, nor had he noticed how he’d gotten much closer to Percival in his absence. So close he could almost touch him. He steps back quickly with a worried glance at Gellert, but the man’s eyes are solely for Percy.

Newt backs up further, waiting to see how it all plays out. Gellert gently trails his hand down Percival’s back, until it rests on his buttocks. He leans down, murmuring something in Percival’s ear Newt cannot understand, but he sees the sub nod. Gellert straightens up, and walks around the bench until he stands right behind Percival. In his right hand he holds a flogger, made of three simple lashes of brown leather.

With a sure hand, Gellert lifts the flogger. His left hand grips the lashes’ ends—that’s how he controls the speed and direction of the blows, Newt realizes—before swinging it down. The crack of leather against skin is loud in the room, but Percival barely flinches.

So the scene begins.

Steady, strong and in control, Gellert brings the flogger down. Each blow makes Newt’s ears ring, and with every lash of the whip Percival’s ass becomes just a little redder, just a little more sensitive, and Percival just a little more _receptive._

Gellert alternates between both arse cheeks, evening the pain and drawing out the punishment.

Newt doesn’t know how long it goes on. After a while, he feels as though he is entranced. He watches with interest as Percival’s skin blooms red, and he is strangely detached from it all. Here he is, watching a man beat another human being, and he finds it beautiful.

The last blow is louder than all the others, and Percival jerks on the bench, his toes curling as he lets out a cry.

Grindelwald stops for a minute, letting him breathe. Newt curiously looks to the side to see his face. Percival is smiling, and Newt thinks he looks drunk. Grindelwald pets him, stroking his ass gently to soften the hurt.

“Darling? You know the word.”

“Yessir,” Percival slurs.

“Good. Then I believe you deserve more.”

The gentle, warm hands leave him, and Percival mewls—honest to God _mewls_ , the sound goes straight to Newt’s cock . The needy thing, he wants to be hurt again, he wants to please Gellert. The flogger goes down— _crack!—_ and Percival moans loudly.

Right, left, right, left; Gellert gives each buttock his careful attention. Sometimes Percival tenses in anticipation of a strong blow that never comes; instead the flogger’s ends barely brush his skin, only for the next strike to be so heavy-handed as to make him arch his back and scream.

That last reaction makes Gellert stop again.

Percy’s ass is red all over, and a few of the strongest blows have left welt marks on his skin. He must be oversensitive, hot to the touch—the slightest pinch hurting like a thousand needles driven right through his skin. At least Newt imagines it feels that way. Percival liked it, though. His moans were significantly louder with each strike, and Gellert never relented until he felt it was enough.

And then, just as Newt thinks it's over, Percival says, “More.”

Newt sees Gellert hesitate.

Their scene has gathered attention, and there are now a couple more people gathered around Percival to watch it happen. Newt understands them. Arms crossed, he watches as Gellert crouches down again to talk to Percival in low tones. He sees Percival nod minutely, and the conversation goes on for a few minutes before Gellert stands up again, carding his hand through Percival’s hair. The man shivers beneath him, relaxing even more.

Gellert takes in the newcomers around them, and Newt sees something in his face change. He smiles, and gestures to Percival’s naked body, stretched out in front of him. A man whistles his appreciation, and a woman chuckles. Briefly, Newt wonders about the old man in the corner, and startles when he finds no one there. He’d been so focused on Gellert and Percival playing together that he didn’t even notice his departure.

Both men are a stark contrast, fitting together like the pieces of a jumbled puzzle. Percy is naked, forced to bend beneath Gellert’s hand; Gellert is dressed, standing up tall and strong, controlling the man under him as surely as he controls himself. They make a heady sight, and Newt finds himself wishing he’d look half as good when his turn comes to be the one either hurting, or being hurt. He gathers he wouldn’t get nearly half as much attention. Percival and Gellert are striking men, standing on their own. Together, they are as hypnotizing as lightning during a storm, and they feel just as dangerous.

“Ten more,” Gellert announces to the room at large, before looking down at Percival. “And I want you to count.”

“Yes sir.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Percival is finally allowed to leave the spanking bench, he is trembling — frail like a leaf about to fall from a tree, as weak-limbed as a little fawn. Grindelwald guides him out of the room with a hand on the small of his back to ground him, while another woman curiously touches the bondage horse he was just abused on. She wears a tight, red corset above a black roll-neck, leather pants and heels to fit with the ensemble. There is a man at her side, kept naked, and a glance down reveals his cock is kept encaged.

Flushing, Newt hastily hurries out of the room, following Gellert and Percy downstairs.

He finds Gellert at the bar again, while Percival is standing in front of two women — submissives as well, Newt guesses by the collars attached around their necks — his back turned to them as they examine his ass. One of them looks awed, and says something that makes Percival laugh. The man turns his head to look warmly at Gellert, but his dom doesn’t see him, too busy ordering drinks. For a minute, Percival looks deflated. Then he sees Newt awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, cast out, and beckons him to come closer. He takes a chair near the two women, wincing just a little as he sits down, and Newt approaches, taking the stool next to him.

“What did you think?” Percival asks without preamble, and Newt wishes he had had another drink.

“You’re a masochist,” is all he can think to say, and luckily for him Percival grins, not offended in the slightest — and why would he be? He asked for pain.

“A bit, yeah,” he admits without shame. “Sometimes it helps. Gellert doesn’t mind either, the man loves beating me up. As long as I want him to, of course.”

Newt nods, feeling a bit small. “What else have you tried?”

“Pretty much everything this world has to offer. There are a few things I don’t enjoy doing. Wax play doesn’t do shit for me, for example, but it all really depends on the person. I know a girl who’s mad for it. Me? I just end up with second-degree burns because I don’t feel shit, while the dom tries to get a reaction out of me. The last time that happened, it was during a scene at another club, and Gellert just went berserk when he saw the state of my skin, while I was just there dozing off. We admittedly caused a bit of a fuss back there, but it was in Belgium, so no one knows us here for it.” He smiles at Newt again, a bit more shyly than before.

Gellert chooses that moment to come back with their drinks, taking in their little group. He places one glass in front of Percival, and keeps the other one in his hand as he takes a sip from it. Percival asks him if he will sit down, but Gellert shakes his head. “Not yet, pet. I’m still looking for ropes.”

That gets the women’s interest.

“Rope?” One of them asks. She sports red lipstick and dreadlocks, and the cutest heart-shaped face Newt has ever seen. “For him?”

She nods towards Percival, who has taken to nuzzling Gellert’s side while the man stands beside him. “Yes. I’m going to tie him up, and play with him until he comes in front of everyone. Isn’t that right, pet?”

Newt sees Percival shiver, and admittedly the images Gellert conjures in his mind as he speaks send a stab of lust lancing through him.

“Oh,” the other woman breathes, just as affected. “Yeah, I’ll be there to watch, if Arthur doesn’t want me to play with him first.”

Gellert smiles down at her and squeezes Percival’s shoulder before walking away. Percival looks thrown off balance for a second, and he smiles at them sheepishly.

“Have you done this before?” Newt asks, biting his lips.

“No,” Percival says cheerfully. “But knowing Gellert, you guys are in for a bit of a show. He does enjoy making me beg. The man’s too talented with his hands, I swear.”  

The two girls chuckle at that, looking significantly more flushed.

Percival leans down to take his glass on the table, and he hums after tasting it. “That’s the ‘spanking’ cocktail. Get 27, lemonade, and lemon.” He holds the drink out to Newt. “Do you want to try it?”

“Uh, sure.” Percival is close enough that Newt only needs to lean down and wrap his lips around the straw Percival just used. He sucks and swallows, before nodding in approval. “It’s good.”

Percival smiles and doesn’t say anything. His gaze looks more heated, and Newt could just be imagining things - it’s not like Percival could do anything with him tonight, not with Gellert having so thoroughly planned to wreck him already. He wonders if the two men are in a relationship outside of BDSM.

Still, he can indulge and flirt. So for a short time, he does just that, as though Percival and him were strangers meeting at a bar and not in a BDSM club.

“So,” Percival asks him at one point. “Confession time. What are your preferred kinks?”

His glass is almost empty, and Percival's cheeks are tinted with the softest pink. By now Newt has learned that the man is a successful, powerful businessman, and that he keeps this side of himself thoroughly separated from his daily life. In return, Percival knows that Newt studies zoology and likes photography in his spare time. The young man finds that despite his nervous nature, talking with Percival is surprisingly easy; and so the conversation flows. Up until that point, that is.

Newt puffs his cheeks and shrugs in a _I have no idea_ gesture. “Everything? Since I’m a beginner, I suppose I have to try a lot of stuff before deciding what I really like.”

“True.” Percival finishes his drink and scoots back in his chair, crossing his legs. Despite the fact that he is naked, Newt can suddenly see the businessman in him, and the change in posture makes him feel more anxious for no reason other than Percival looks suddenly formidable. He shifts on the chair, avoiding the man’s eyes. “There must be a couple things you want to try more than others, though. Would you consider yourself more submissive or dominant?”

“Submissive.” Newt frowns. “I mean, I think?”

“Alright. Anything you’re particularly into? It can be simple things. Toys, bondage, primal play.”

Newt’s throat goes dry at the last words. “Y — yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Primal play. That. Hm. I think I’d love it.”

Percival smiles slowly. “As the predator or the prey?”

“I — both?” Newt sounds lost, but both ideas are equally appealing to him. Being pursued and fighting against another person before being roughly taken, made to submit; and being the one to give chase and to take. He can picture it easily, and somehow this time the ‘prey’ in the second scenario wears Percival’s face. “Oh. Yes, both.”

Percival looks pleased. Before he can say another word, however, there’s a loud whistle to their right, and they turn their heads to see Gellert grinning and holding thin ropes in his hands, the type typically used to practice shibari.

“Ah, that’s my cue,” Percival says, and he sounds damn excited. “Excuse me. I hope you enjoy the show, Newt.”

The man rises up — all toned muscles and pale, polished skin save for his heavily bruised ass —  and walks up to his dom. Gellert is not alone. There is another man next to him, taller by a head and wider in all the right ways. He sports a heavy beard, and his long hair is tied into a ponytail. He greets Percival when he arrives, and the contrast between the two has Newt swallow down a whimper.

God, the bulky man must be well-endowed too. He wonders how well Percival would take it.

Screaming internally, Newt decides to get himself another drink.

 

* * *

 

It takes time for the man to tie Percival up properly. Newt watches as he first encircles Percival with his arms while standing behind him, before guiding them above his head, wrists kept close together. Newt thinks the position must be quite uncomfortable to hold for a long time, but it is all part of the game. The man checks on Percival every now and then while Gellert watches the proceedings with dark eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. Once Percy’s torso is securely tied up, he is made to sit back in one of the plushest chairs. He spreads his legs and they are held open by more ropes, tied to the chair legs.

Once he is done, the man steps back, telling Grindelwald in a gruff voice to call if there is a problem, and reminding Percival to speak up should he feel any pain that is sharper than normal. Percival nods dreamily. The ropes fit nicely against his skin, and he clearly enjoys the inferior position he was put in. His cock is half hard.

Gellert kneels in front of him. From his pants pocket, he pulls two plastic gloves which he puts on with a snap. Percival shivers in anticipation. A quick look around the room shows Newt the two men have everyone’s full attention for now, and he focuses back on them quickly lest he misses anything of the show.

Gellert then produces a little packet of lube. He tears it open with his teeth, and spreads the shiny substance over his fingertips. His hand hovers for a moment above Graves’ cock, before he finally touches the tip of it — only the tip.

Newt holds his breath as Gellert smears the lube on the head of Graves’ cock, before wrapping his hand around it and giving it one firm stroke. Percival hums in pleasure. His sole focus is on Gellert, and he bites his lips wantonly, gaze smouldering and dusky.

Newt sips his drink.

* * *

 

When Gellert is done with Percival, Newt has had to readjust himself in his pants more times than he can count.

Gellert wipes his hands with a tissue, and tugs off his gloves. His smile is smug as he looks at Percival, the other man still twitching and drooling in the afterglow of what looked to be one hell of a powerful orgasm - if his blissful expression, his scream, and the fact that he hit his own chin with his release was anything to go by.

Oh, and how Gellert made him _sing_. He knew just how to play with Percival’s body, opening him up and pulling noises from his throat that had Newt’s head spinning as he grew hard. The sub was gorgeous, so wanton in his sheer need. He’d begged to be able to come so, so sweetly.

Two fingers deep inside him and he barely held on, eyes glassy with pleasure and mouth open on desperate little pants and moans as Gellert fingered him roughly, hitting that sweet spot just right. His entire body rolled with it when Gellert moved his hand, muscles in his forearm rippling. Percival was so close _—_ so close, so _close,_ and _please Sir, can I come, oh, oh, please — let me come —_

“Yes, pet.”

And Percival _had._

Newt sets his glass down on the table at his side, wondering how he will be able to get rid of his hard-on without just jerking it off right there. He needs to think of something else, and he could, if Percival wasn’t still tied up in that armchair looking utterly fucked out.

 _Bloody hell._ What has he gotten himself into?

The burly man is back again. Gellert cleans Percival with a tissue as he starts untying him, and he carefully helps him up on his feet. Percy’s legs shake, like he is barely able to hold his own weight.

Gellert tells him to breathe. When it is not enough, he encompasses Percival in a hug, stroking his hair and murmuring in his ear words of reassurance and comfort Newt cannot hear. He sees Percival nod minutely, and Gellert steps back for a minute only to take off his own vest and place it around Percival’s shoulders. He calls the big man again, who has a quick conversation with them, and the two of them stay standing there while the other — who is the owner — finds the stairwell to go up to the front desk.

Very hesitantly, Newt decides to approach them. Gellert has his arm wrapped around Percival’s shoulders, and he rubs him comfortingly, tucking Percival in against his chest. The other man still trembles, eyelashes half mast against his cheeks.

“Is he alright?” Newt asks as soon as he’s within hearing range. Gellert looks up at him, before giving a swift nod.

“He is, my boy. Not to worry. I know his limits. He is only tired. Think I teased him for too long. We’re calling it a night, for today.”

Newt wants to ask, _are you together?_ But by now it seems pretty obvious. So he only acquiesces. “Will I see you again?”

“Oh, yes,” Gellert murmurs, stroking Percival’s hair fondly. “We’re regulars here.” Percy mumbles against him before straightening up, and Gellert’s hand goes back to his shoulder. The smaller man looks up at Newt tiredly, but his smile is genuine.

“It was nice meeting you, Newt. Looking forward to seeing you again.”

“So do I,” Newt says quickly. “That was an interesting experience, to say the least.”

“I concur,” Percival says, stifling a yawn. “S - sorry.”

Gellert laughs softly, before dropping a kiss on top of Percival’s head, making the other man squirm. “Come on, pet. Let’s go home.”

Newt watches their backs as they go. Percival is leaning against Gellert, seeking contact. When they make their way up the stairs back to the reception, Gellert remains half a step below him to support him. They disappear out of Newt’s sight, just like that; and Newt blinks, as though waking up from a dream. The hush of voices around him is suddenly louder, and he is more aware of his own loneliness than before.

Until, that is, a young woman with a short bob haircut stops in front of him.

“Hi,” she says nervously. “I was told you were a newcomer too?”

Newt meets her eyes — big, brown, fathomless — and he finds he can’t… quite tear his gaze away.

“Uh,” he says eloquently, “Yeah. I’m Newt.”

He holds a hand out, smiling slowly.

He didn’t actually think he would meet anyone he would feel unmistakably attracted to tonight, not like _this_ , but it seems the universe has other plans.

“I’m Tina,” the woman says with a lopsided smile. “So how do things go around here?”

“Tina,” Newt repeats with confidence. “Have you ever witnessed an actual scene before?”

“Can’t say I have, no. I assume that’s where the moans came from. But I got a glimpse of some playing when I was given a tour earlier.”

“I see. Tina — would you like a drink?” He suggests. “Then we could both go into the playrooms to observe, if you want.”

Tina smiles. “I’d like that.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it drop a comment and let me know what you liked ! :)
> 
> One fic down, two more to go - I have another upcoming Grindelgraves one-shot that is dark af (possibly more than Lacrimosa) and a Black Milk update. Stay tuned!


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